Mi Vida Loca

or, for the monolingual among us, "My Crazy Life."

The clouds evaporated and the sun came out.  Linus and Lucy had spent a couple hours outside, without escaping.  In my muddy yard.  So the logical thing was to give them a bath.  Cool them off.  Clean them off.

Great idea, huh?  Since Linus is a newcomer, I had no idea how he felt about baths.  Turns out, he tolerated it very well.  Better than Lucy.  Which isn't saying much.  Unfortunately, the colony of fleas he hosted didn't take it as well.  OMG.  I have a parasite phobia.  I swear, they said he was negative for everything.  Heartworm, rabies, hookworm, and surely, fleas and ticks.  I should've listened to The Daddler when he said the new dog was "knockin' fleas."  I thought it was an allergy to the cat.  It was congruent with his sneezing.

After doing my best to spray away the fleas with the jet setting on the nozzle, I wrapped Linus in a towel and handed him to The D.  I fastened the "Lucky Dog" collar and slipped on the leash, and told D to take him in and put him in the crate (which, fortunately, had clean bedding.)  A minute later, I'd plunged Lucy into the fresh (hopefully flea-less water).  That's when I heard The Daddler holler, "She ran away."  Amber alert.

I abandoned Lucy and ran in the house.  Told D to get in the van.  I grabbed the keys and a leash and headed down the street.  Like a ghost, we kept seeing her, but she didn't materialize.  I jumped out of the van and ran like the devil.  I tried to head her off at the pass.  That's when I saw the mini-van rolling down the street.  The Daddler was behind the wheel.  Pressed into service.  I jumped into the passenger seat and told him to go past Linus, so I could head him back to our house.  The opposite direction of White Station.  Major thoroughfare.

I imagined the convo with the animal clinic's In-House Nurse Ratched, telling her of Linus' demise.  I was comforted by the fact that my house was likely infested with fleas.  And that I'm on the verge of figuring out how to do small claims court.

The D did great.  I instructed him to pull into a driveway, so I could jump out and pursue the prodigal dog.  He did.  And I did.  And Linus submitted.  I snatched him up.  The Daddler was getting out of the van when I got back, and I told him to keep on driving.  And he did.  What was the worst that could happen?

Wow.  I think I should try to reinstate his license.  I'm not sure he could pass the written exam, given the aphasia,  but the truth is, he's a much better driver than I am.  And as far as sense of direction... No contest.  And so what if he got pulled over and ticketed for driving without a license?  If he did some time for doing the crime, I think he'd have a positive influence on his cell mates.  And I'd have a break from preparing meals.

Ok, this is nonsense.  I should close.  I need a nap before I head to the James Taylor concert tonight.  Turns out, everyone I know will be there.  So I should figure out something to wear.  Maybe just a towel, because it'll be a sauna.

Over and out...